The Heart of an Assassin
by Desperado1102
Summary: Emily is a revered assassion, a woman who lives her life in the shadows of Port Royal, until she makes a fatal mistake and someone pulls her from them.
1. An Assassin

It frightened her how perfectly and according to plan everything was going. She looked around, no one even had the slightest idea she was there. She was like a shadow, a damned invisible woman. She took off her black leather glove and wiggled her fingers to feel the wind. Well she would have been feeling the wind had there been any. But, fortunately for her and not for those poor souls below her sweating profusely from the sickening heat, there wasn't even a slight breeze. No wind meant virtually no air resistance, and no air resistance meant a clean, clear shot. She sighed silently, wishing they would get on with the ceremony so she could take the shot and go home. It was the last one of the day and she was tired, the blood of three other men on her hands. Well, not literally, figuratively. The fourth and final being Theodore Reina. Or Commodore Theodore Reina if she wanted to get all fancy and technical. Today was the day of his promotion, and someone in a high rank wanted him dead. Just fancy that.

She didn't even see the face of the man who came to her, asking her, no begging her to take Reina out. They said he was corrupt and would do nothing but bring peril and danger to the good British town of Port Royal, Jamaica. On hearing that it was a Commodore of his majesty's royal navy, she almost instantly declined the offer, saying she only handled small projects. Vengeance projects and such. Nothing of this caliber had been offered to her in years. But as she rose to her feet and started to walk away from the obscured man, he reached out and grabbed her hand, and with his other arm, he dropped an entire sack filled with gold on the table. The table creaked and moaned under such weight and her eyes nearly popped out of her head.

"You really want this man dead don't you?" she asked nonchalantly, untying the bag and sifting through the gold, biting one to make sure it was real.

"We heard you were the best." She looked up at him and narrowed her eyes.

"Wasn't there someone of your class that could take care of your problem? Why come all the way down to the taverns to find your devil's advocate?" she asked, half interested and half weary of her safety.

"Because we couldn't very well get some upstanding person to do it. We had to get someone that none of the wealthy people would know, someone that no one would have heard of. And talk about the taverns is, you're the best there is." She quickly retied the sack with nimble little fingers. The man standing before her watched as she favored her trigger finger as she tied the sack tightly. He wondered idly what the black tattoo just below the knuckle meant, but his thoughts were pushed to the back of his mind as she straightened and looked up at him confidently.

"Well it's comforting to think that you haven't been lied to around here," she said, completely uninterested in the fact.

"So you'll do it then?" he asked, his voice rising up in desperation. She looked at his shadowed face and narrowed her eyes again, sizing up the man.

"How can you ensure my safety and conceal my identity?" she asked harshly and propped a hand on her hip in defiance.

"No one will stop you, that's a promise..." She cut him off rudely.

"Wrong." She pulled a piece of parchment from her breeches and unrolled it in front of the man. "You'll sign this, and if any of this is to be broken," she left her sentence up in the air, the man hanging on her last words. "I will find you and I will kill you," she whispered so softly, one would think the man was her lover. The man nodded and bent over the table to sign the document, his signature large and important, judging by all the curls and loops. She read the name quickly and diligently. "Thank you Mr. Hayes." The man balked, she now knew his name.

"The name, place and date are here," he said tossing a small piece of paper on the table. "Thank you," he said quickly and she stood to shake his quivering hand.

"Pleasure's all mine," she said and shook his hand firmly, looking down lovingly at her sack of gold.

Now, almost a week later, she laid on an unknown rooftop, sweating dressed in all black from head to toe. Good thing her hair was a deep, sparkling shade of black and not platinum blonde, or her job wouldn't be so easy. She so hated hats. She recognized which one Mr. Hayes was just by the way the man was standing. So uneasy, so unsure, so...so... tense. She snickered, maybe she should send a fun little warning shot right past his nose. She disappointedly held back the urge, and continued to focus on the speaker's podium. She noticed how no one was happy, no one smiled, no one seemed to be enjoying themselves at all. This soon to be Commodore must have really been hated. She idly wondered, once she killed off this rotten Commodore to be, who's to say that the King doesn't just send another crooked Commodore to be? Perhaps they were all power hungry, unjust men. She nodded. Yes, that was it, they're all power hungry, unjust men.

Polite, dainty clapping filled her highly skilled ears and she shook her head clear of all her previous thoughts and zoned in on her target. He was a tall, thin man who had a moustache that curled up at the tips and cold, hard eyes set far back in his head, making him appear more sinister than he really was. He donned a full military outfit, fitted with gold and navy and red and all those other splendid colors that a military man should wear. She wasn't too sure from memory, for a soldier was never directly in front of her, he was always behind her, running after her to arrest her for something. Thus the reason she was unsure of the colors.

She watched as he took the stage and stood behind the podium, not smiling, not thanking, just diving right into his speech. And if he was any of the man that he looked to be, this was going to be a very short speech, and a very quick death. Taking a deep breath, she lined up the shot, her finger running almost lovingly over the trigger, ready and waiting. She closed her right eye slowly, focusing on exactly where he was. The two British flags hung limp behind him on either side. These were her markers.

In those flitting few seconds before she pulled the trigger, she recited a prayer that her father had taught to her when she was a very young girl, just days before he was lost to the sea forever.

"And shepherd I shall be, for thee my Lord, for thee. Power hath descended forth from thy hand. My feet shall swiftly carry out thy commands. So I shall flow a river forth to thee. And teeming with souls shall it ever be."

Her whispered hymn reached the ears of no one except the wind and the sea, but her bullet traveled swift and true, piercing the premature Commodore's heart. She remained tucked safely away, hidden by the many rooftops before her as she watched Reina squirm in pain. She watched ruby red blood soak the king's colors and spill onto the stage. She watched his harsh eyes grow dark and empty as Death overcame him like the plague. She watched him fall to his knees and clutch his chest as if he could pull the bullet out of his weakening heart. But as Mr. Hayes turned in his seat to scan the rooftops high above, there was no one there. No glimmer of a gun, no rustle of clothing, no flash of a human, she was gone. She was like a shadow, she was a damned invisible woman.

She dismembered the gun as she leaped from rooftop to rooftop, shoving the separate pieces into her bag as she ran, her heart pounding with the thrill of the kill. She dropped the bag to the ground and quickly followed it soon after, her feet hitting the ground quietly. She pushed the nearest door open with her shoulder and locked it behind her, dropping the black bag behind a large pot of fresh flowers in the kitchen. There, behind the pantry door exactly where she had left it when she set out on her journey early this morning, was her midnight blue dress, hanging lifelessly from a hook. She snatched it off the hook and undressed herself, throwing items of clothing all over the neat and tidy pantry. She slipped into the gown and struggled briefly to get the damn thing tied. Crouching down, she sifted about for her shoes, laying snugly between a sack of flour and a crate of God knows what. Slipping them on carelessly and pulling her hair back into a respectable knot, she emerged from the pantry, pinching her cheeks for color as she dashed through the large house. She cursed when she couldn't find her own parlor and once she did find it, she threw herself onto a sofa and picked up her sewing like he had been there all morning, sipping tea and nibbling on crumpets.

"Miss Emily," the maid said as she entered the parlor minutes after Emily, completely unaware of her sudden appearance in the parlor, thinking that her mistress had just simply been there all day. Emily looked up from her stitching and smiled at Beth.

"Yes?" she asked innocently, her voice cool and feminine. Beth curtseyed and looked toward the door.

"You have a visitor," she said and watched as Emily rose from her sofa, narrowing her eyes in the direction of the front door. She smoothed her skirts and mentally cursed the dress, but smiled at Beth, walking slowly from the parlor and to the front.

-Well now this isn't the first, this is the second story, and i think that if you all help me with comments, i will be more compelled to finish it. i love it, please tell me how you feel about these first couple chapters..

If you were wondering, the 'prayer' that Emily says is from the Boondock Saints.

Thanks a lot everyone,

Kate, Desperado.


	2. Invisible

I DO NOT OWN JACK SPARROW. ha.

When she reached the foyer she saw those colors. She got to see them up close now and drink in their luster. "Can I help you?" she asked, biting her tongue. The man wearing the colors turned on his heel and faced the beautiful woman that stood before him who cursed the ground he walked on. She smiled and knew it didn't reach her eyes.

"Yes, we're doing a routine check." She nodded and let her smile fade. This is why she didn't do big projects. There were always too many people involved. "Where were you all day, Miss Blake?" he asked her and she smiled at him with innocent dark eyes.

"Why, I was here all day, stitching up one of the maid's skirts, poor thing tore it the other day." The officer nodded and tipped his hat to her.

"Sorry for the intrusion Miss Blake."

"What's going on?" she asked him with false interest.

"The Commodore's been shot, Miss," he said, but she saw no remorse behind his eyes and she felt no compassion in his tone.

"How terrible," she said, her hand flying to her chest. "I do hope he's alright," she said and looked at him hopefully.

"He's dead, Miss Blake. Once again, sorry for the intrusion, have a nice day," he said casually, like being assassinated was just a normal everyday occurrence. He turned on his heel and walked right out the door of the assassin's home. She smirked as she slammed the door shut in his wake, taking grim satisfaction in the fact that he felt no compassion for the fallen Commodore. She smiled to herself, it was a job well done.

It was mere hours later that she shed her luxurious midnight blue dress and kicked off her matching shoes, instead donning a pair of black breeches and a white shirt. She smiled to herself as she tied back her dark hair and slipped into her favorite boots. She padded out the back door, leaving it open ajar so she could return to her home when all was said and done and she was good and drunk. She couldn't wait for the rum.

As always, she slipped in to the local tavern and pirate hot spot unnoticed and unbothered. She carefully sat herself down at a table where she could easily see whoever came in and out of the tavern and what was happening in all areas of the room. She had a bit of a safety issue. Barren, the bartender, swayed alarmingly over to her the moment he saw her sit down, with a mug of rum filled to the brim and a big stupid grin on his face. He placed the mug gently down in front of her, expertly not spilling a drop of the sweet brown liquid on the table. She gratefully took the rum and took a long swig and when she lowered the mug, Barren was still there, smiling absurdly.

"Still drinking on the job I see, Barren," she said as she happily took another well deserved swig of rum.

"Heard what happened today," he said excitedly, letting his sentence dangle in hopes she would look up or maybe share some of his drunken excitement with him. It took a few long moments but when she finally did look up, he continued. "Commodore was shot," he said, an even wider smile splitting his face.

"Was he now, well that's a crying shame indeed," she said smartly.

"About damn time someone shot that heartless bugger," he raged, rapping his knuckles on the table. "You did good sharpshooter. Straight through the heart I heard. Drinks on me the rest of the night," he said, calling her the somewhat endearing name everyone seemed to stick to her. Barren walked away, staggering roughly through the maze of tables and drunken pirates. She shrugged her shoulders and drank again. If it was free and not poisoned she would gladly accept it. She looked around idly as she sipped on her rum. There were some locals, some old timers, some familiar faces and some new, but none seemed out of place. Until her eye reached a forgotten corner of the room where a woman in her early 30's with innocent blue eyes and soft British skin kept company with two rugged looking gentlemen. She wore an elegant party dress and her hair was in complete shambles, a mere memory of what it must have looked like earlier. Emily watched the fragile woman carefully and with curious eyes, knowing her situation could become ugly and unfriendly quicker than she could lace up her corset.

"Hey sharpshot!" someone called and she felt her body fight the urge to jump ten feet out of her seat. A man sat himself down in front of her, blocking the view of the other women and the two curious men. She shrugged, she figured the woman could most likely handle herself or else she wouldn't be here.

"Journey," she smiled coyly at him and shook his outstretched hand.

"Nice shooting today, Ace." Emily sipped on her rum again, her face calm and collected.

"How are you so sure it was me? Maybe it was someone else that did it." She kept her face stone straight and her eyes level, leaving her expression void of any emotion. Journey thought about it for a moment and tossed the idea around until he finally shook his head.

"No one could make a shot like that except you, and we both know that," he said and smiled triumphantly like he had figured out the puzzle. She nodded, for once basking in her glory, something she rarely did.

"You strike a good point," she said with pride and drank down another mouthful of the sweet Caribbean rum.

"Good eye, you're my hero." The Italian pirate stood and slicked his hair back with his hands as he walked back toward his crew. She turned her eyes on the woman who was now struggling against one of the men. Emily calmly downed the last sip of rum and pulled her dagger from her boot as she sashayed toward them. As she got closer she heard the woman's unnoticed desperate pleas for freedom. She screamed and pushed and neither paid her any mind. Emily aimed like she always did before she made a kill, and threw her dagger straight at the table they all seemed to be occupying. The dagger struck one of the men's hands who had been supporting himself on the table, piercing it and pinning it fast to the dirty wood beneath it. Blood poured from the wound, turning the brown wooden table into a morbid reddish brown color that almost made her stomach turn. Almost. The man cried out in pain and threw his head back as he yelped as if it would stop his suffering. He turned and looked straight into her cold piercing eyes, looking away only to inspect the dagger gouged in his mangled hand.

"I believe the woman said no," she said fiercely and if the man was smart or knew who she was, he would back up. But clearly he wasn't from this port so he didn't know who would kill him at a moments notice and who wouldn't. She just happened to be one of those kill you at a moments notice kind of people. She walked quickly over to the threesome and expertly yanked her prized dagger from the man's bloody hand. As she watched the woman continue to wriggle in vain, something inside her tingled and stirred. Something like anger and hatred for the men who held someone back, something like rage for the people who would want to take away someone's freedom and will. She was unfamiliar with the feeling she got because no one dared question her freedom or test her will power.

"Bitch!" the man with the gaping hole in his hand yelled with so much anger she thought the room would shake. She gave him a half ass side glance and focused once again on the putrid man standing before her, holding the woman tight against his chest as she fought futilely against him. The man who was currently nursing his hand started in the other direction, sensing an ill fate for his friend and wanted to be as far away from the scene of the crime as possible.

"Who the hell do you think you are!" the man tightly holding the woman demanded angrily. Emily just stared. She knew what he would do next and she was prepared.

"Either a screaming fighting woman is a new game that the whores are playing in bed these days or she's just not all that interested," she said nastily.

"Bugger off," he said loudly as he dragged her kicking and screaming toward the door. Emily turned on her heel. As she passed the bar, Barren threw her one of her many riffles.

"Back stairs, to your left, second window to the roof," he shouted after her as she slammed her shoulder into the back door marked PRIVATE. Barren dropped both a glass mug and the towel he had been washing it with, and made his way toward the front door where the rest of the bar had flocked as Emily ran up the stairs three at a time. Once she reached the top she took a hard left, skidded a little around the corner, fought to keep her balance, and shattered the second window with the butt of her riffle. She threw herself out the shattered window, careful not to overstep and end up sprawled out on the ground far below broken and dead. Cutting across at least two rooftops, she decided on a place where she could make a clear clean shot from a safe distance where she was sure no one could see her. She was lined up perfectly with the rapidly approaching man and the horrified woman close in tow. She carefully lined up the shot, a little quicker than normal, but it would have to do. She recited the prayer hushed but proud and she closed her right eyed slowly. Just as she pulled the trigger, people poured out of the tavern and onto the street, falling all over each other, hoping to catch a glimpse of the shadow that had made another perfect shot and killed another scoundrel. But all they saw was a man and a woman falling fast toward the cold hard ground, clutching onto each other like they were madly in love not using the other to stay on their feet. The woman screamed as they fell, blood splattering on her clean, beautiful dress and her pretty British skin. He pulled her down with him as he fell in a last ditch effort to stay living. Dozens of prying eyes scanned the rooftops, peeked cautiously down alleyways and squinted far down the dirt roads leading both to town and to the docks where their beloved ships were quietly at anchor, resting, nestled silently in the waves. But nothing bore any sign of life and the only thing they heard was the horrid, echoing noise of the woman screaming in absolute terror.

Among the overly concerned crowd stood an infamous, notorious pirate captain, curious about what on Earth was so interesting outside where there was absolutely no rum to be had. He crossed his arms over his many buckles and charms, his long black mane decorated with trinkets, braids, and beads of all kinds and colors, draping tiredly over his broad shoulders. He stood quietly, unnoticed and focused on the flat black rooftops of all the Port Royal homes and shops, trying, like everyone else he supposed, to catch a small sparkle of a riffle, or maybe a reflection of a ring in the pale light. But no such sighting could be seen. He smiled to himself and unfolded his tattooed arms, placing his perfectly sculpted hands on his hips in awe.

"She's a damned invisible woman," he muttered as he turned on his heel and made his way back inside the tavern. If he was lucky, the bartender would still be outside and he could swipe a mug or two of rum to keep him happy all night long.

-Kate


	3. Meet Katherine

1Thank you for the reviews they are all much appreciated! I hope this satisfies you... and for all of you out there who are maybe just reading it and not reviewing, please, please review, it means a lot to me! Thanks everyone!

She left the riffle on the rooftop where she was perched, telling herself that she would come back for it later, but knowing she wouldn't. She swung daintily down from the rooftop, her legs still sore from the aftershock of her previous jump earlier that day and when she landed she was harshly reminded of this ten fold. She pushed the pain away and took off running through the streets, taking alleys and back roads to the tavern so that by some miracle she appeared at the back entrance and was able to push her way through the crowd from the back, making it look like she too was a specter. She pushed her way toward the still screaming woman, now trapped underneath the dead man's body.

A marksman would declare this shot a perfect shot, straight through the temple, dead instantly. The shot was taken from over 4oo feet and she stood to admire her work momentarily before pushing the heavy man off the tortured woman whose beautiful gown was drenched in blood. Emily helped her to her feet and smiled at her charmingly, able to remain completely calm after a kill. "Are you alright now?" Emily asked her, raising her eyebrows, expecting the woman to burst out in tears or start howling again. But the woman did no such thing. She merely nodded, a single tear rolling out of her striking blue eye. "What's your name?"

"Katherine Reina," she answered slowly, as if she had to sound out her name as she said it. She let her eyes run over the dead body of the man who had held her so menacingly against him just moments before.

"Not the commodore's wife, just the same name right?" Emily asked, mentally pleading with any God that the woman just nod her head and she would be guilt free for the rest of her life.

"No, I am. Or was as of late," she said and continued to remain void of any emotion whatsoever. Emily's stomach turned, this time it actually did a back flip and suddenly Katherine looked up at her, her eyes glazed over badly and her speech slow and slurred mildly. "I don't know whether to laugh or to cry," she said, her brow furrowing. Then suddenly she stiffened and raised her eyebrows. "But there had been no crying yet," she confessed openly. Emily nodded and pulled her back in the direction of the tavern, glaring at anymore prying eyes in the crowd.

Keeping a strong hold on Katherine's arm, she expertly led her through the crowds blocking the entrance to the tavern, still scanning the lifeless rooftops in wonderment. Shocked whispers filled the air like the smell before the sky brought on the rain and she closed her mind to the same old murmured questions. 'How is it possible?' ' Why would she care?' 'Where is she now?' People were so very stupid. She walked untouched and completely unseen by the eyes of the pirates and whores and gypsies that inhabited the tavern on a nightly basis. The woman they were all so very eager to lay eyes on brushed elbows with them as she fought her way through the throng they had created because of her. Yes, people where so very stupid.

"Who are you?" Katherine asked quietly as Emily sat her down at a clean table, not caring whether or not it opened up to the entire room.

"Barren! Just a really, really watered down ale over here," Emily whispered, oblivious to the set of eyes that watched her as she moved fluidly to make the woman comfortable and secure. A good deal of the customers and workers still stood outside, scanning the scene like she was going to drop in at any moment from a rope and soar above their heads, blowing kisses at them and smiling as they applauded her like she was the town hero. No such encounter hard ever been before, just like no such encounter will ever be in the future.

When she finally sat down in the chair across from Katherine, she was unable to look up into the woman's striking blue eyes. "You don't want to know who I am, Katherine," Emily said cooly and pushed a mug of heavily watered down ale in her direction. She sighed. "Just drink that," she said and flopped her hand in the direction of the mug. "It may not taste very good," Emily warned. She still refused to look up into the eyes of the woman whose husband she had just recently murdered mere hours before. A few minutes passed and Emily felt a cold hand on hers, squeezing it gently. She gathered up her courage and what she knew was right and looked up into a pair of piercing blue eyes, filled with fear and confusion.

"Who are you?" she asked again, this time with a little more determination. Emily ripped her gaze away from her eyes and raised her eyebrows.

"Well, let's just say I'm' a friend. One girl to another," she said, the words soft and feminine as they left her lips.

"Why did you help me?" This question dragged a cold laugh from Emily's throat, which was dry and tight from surprise of meeting the newly deceased commodore's wife.

"Because we couldn't have both Reinas dead in one day." They words were soft but she was afraid the meaning would pull tears to the surface of the pretty woman's eyes. To her surprise again, the words, though harsh, surfaced no tears. Not one small glassy drop.

"One was quite enough," Katherine said coldly and Emily didn't know whether to take that as defense for her husband's sake or satisfaction that she had no more husband. She decided she would test the waters.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Emily said, the monotone apology not reaching her eyes. Katherine didn't so much as flinch.

"Are you really? I mean are you truly sorry or are you saying it because it's the polite and customary thing to do?" she asked. She asked the question with the soul purpose of just seeing what Emily's answer would be. Not to see whether she actually did mean it. It was almost like she was taking a survey and not defending her husband's honor. Emily looked hard at the woman as Katherine looked hard back at Emily.

"I"m Emily," she said, breaking the stinging silence between them and holding out her delicate hand. Katherine took it willingly and without hesitation.

"You killed my husband didn't you?" she asked as she shook Emily's hand. For the first time since she could remember, she was speechless. She had no witty comeback, she had no apology on her tongue, she was merely a woman staring back into the incriminating eyes of another.

"Yes," was all she could croak out. Katherine smirked and nodded, like she was proud that she had figured out the mystery that was haunting every soldier in Port Royal, and even prouder that she had shook the same hand and touched the same finger that had pulled the trigger and ended her husband's life. Emily suddenly felt very at ease around the fiery woman.

"Right then." Emily and Katherine looked at each other for a long time. One, idolizing the other for killing the man that hit her until she bled, raped her until her throat was sore and her fists were bruised, and starved her until she thought she could feel her stomach cave in and in that case there was no need for her suffocating coset. The other woman was eyeing a person that had just accepted her husband's assassin into her life openly and with no hesitation. Both decided that the other was extraordinary in some way.

The man with the long black mane and teeth of gold watched as a friendship blossomed between the two women across the room. One, a trained killer, the other, a trained housewife. It was something odd, and perhaps he had just had too much rum, but then again, there was never such a thing as too much rum.

His eyes traveled over the killer, beautiful and cold as a stone tucked tightly in a seawall. Her eyes masked years of pain and her mouth was constantly pursed in thought. She looked as though her mind was always ticking, as though she always had a plan and then a counter plan if the first plan failed. She was the woman he had been searching all those rooftops and all those alleyways for. She was the one who 'lurked in every shadow' or so they told him. And she was only sitting three tables away.

When he stumbled out of the bar that night, drunk and tired, his arms around his mates who supported his every footfall, he threw a glance over to the table holding the two mysterious women where they had remained pleasantly perched for hours. He smiled and mentally tipped his hat, for he was so drunk he couldn't remember he even owned a hat. "Not invisible anymore," he slurred in his already hard to understand accent as he detached himself from his mates and zig zagged drunkenly back to his beautiful ship.

-There you have it, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did! Shoot me a review if you've read it, much thanks,

-Kate, Desperado.


	4. Choices

1Cesca, I must say, you know how to get the creative juices flowing with your awesome reviews. Thanks very much! Here's another chapter.

A year had come and gone without anyone acknowledging the anniversary of the passing of the Commodore. People went on with their daily lives as though nothing had happened exactly one year ago on this day. Certainly not the cold blooded assassination of the future commodore of the military in Port Royal. Many things had changed in that year. Emily rarely visited the taverns anymore, for she had settled into regular life. She had found a friend, an outsider, someone who knew her secret, yet kept it close to them and not only because they feared for their life. She had no need to keep returning to the taverns, she was not working, she had just disappeared. One day she was causing a scene at a local tavern as the famous assassin everyone searched through the blackest shadows for, and the next she was completely gone, disappeared, assimilated into life as a wealthy woman of Port Royal, assuming all their duties. She had to admit though, she got rather bored on occasion and sometimes wished that this wasn't the path that she had chosen, she sometimes wished she was out there with the best of them, pointing, aiming and shooting.

Around noon, Katherine came storming into her parlor where she sat, alone, reading a book. A far cry from what she was doing a year ago. She didn't look up for she knew who it was and what she would be yelling about now. She kept the word she was on steady with her eyes as she listened to Katherine complain, giving the impression that she could read and listen at the same time, but in actuality, she was just listening. "And then he asked if he could court me!" she sputtered out, almost hysterical as she threw herself onto the love seat, her head landing in Emily's lap where her book had previously held court. Emily sighed and put her book down on the table next to the love seat, running her fingers through her friend's long red hair. "He's horrible. He's absolutely revolting and my parents love him and his money. They're pushing me at him and I simply won't have him! I can't, I won't, please tell them I can't, Em, they'll only listen to you not me," she said, her throat tight and her speech thick from the lump Emily knew was weighing down her throat. Emily sighed again, at a loss for words. All the men that she wasn't interested in that came to court her she just waved off with a flick of her wrist upon theirs and a twinkle in her black eyes.

"Maybe if you give him a chance he won't be so bad after all," Emily said, pulling a face while she said it. She knew he was revolting, she knew he was absolutely unmarriable. He was old and plump and had salt and pepper whiskers and no sense of humor whatsoever. All he liked to talk about was himself and how the weather was. He was completely uninterested in anything that didn't have to do with himself. She ground her teeth before she let herself say what was coming down the pike next. "He's rather... Well he's got good... Teeth," Emily said, forcing the compliment out of her like a tickle in her throat. She winced at the thought of the man even smiling, something she had never and probably will never see. Katherine lifted her head up and looked at Emily in confusion.

"He's got good teeth, Emily?" she said and Emily raised her eyebrows in question.

"What, so what. Maybe I like his dental work," she said and looked the other way out the window instead of looking into Katherine's confused and sparkling eyes. They were both on the verge of laughter, it was just a matter of who would break first.

"Well he's filthy rich, no one's looking at his mouth for Christ's sake!" Katherine shrieked, throwing her head back into Emily's lap dramatically giving a tortured howl of distaste for the man in question. Emily was the first one who started to giggle merrily, her beautiful teeth showing as her full, rosy lips parted in a smile. "It's not funny," Katherine said, trying to sound hurt, but it came out cracked and multi toned because of the laughter that was hidden behind the words. Emily's giggle became a full blown hysterical laughing fit and she threw her head back and laughed, her black, shining hair falling silkily from its bindings. "Emily!" Katherine shouted, but held her stomach and laughed right along with Emily. It was a rather funny situation if you took out the bit where Katherine had to forfeit her life for the happiness and honor of her family. If you didn't, then it wasn't really a funny thing at all, but a heartbreaking and uncomfortable topic that should have been avoided

at all costs.

When the laughter died down and the girls gathered their composure back, Katherine laid still and silent on the sofa, her head still rested in Emily's lap. She closed her tired blue eyes and relaxed as Emily ran her fingers through Katherine's soft hair. Emily watched her friend carefully as she closed her innocent blue eyes. It seemed as though she wanted to close those eyes to the world, to block out all the bad, to block out her family and her damned honor. She wanted to forget about the challenges she would have to face when she opened them and she wanted to just lay there forever. She wanted to lay there and be carefree like the woman that ran her delicate fingers through her well brushed hair. She wanted her life, a life free of anything of anyone that she didn't want or like. She just wanted to live her life the way she wanted.

"You won't leave me will you?" Katherine had always been the needier of the two. She always needed a reminder that she was loved, that someone cared for her. She needed this unconsciously of course, never asking to be reminded that someone cared, but she needed to all the same.

"Of course not," Emily said soothingly, knowing the time to laugh had passed and now there was nothing left to do to comfort Katherine than to be calm and supportive.

"It's been a year today," Katherine said softly, looking out the window as if someone would swoop in and rescue her from a life she didn't want to lead. No tears swelled her in eyes, no frown tugged at the corners of her lips. She was emotionless.

"I know," Emily said kindly, tucking a lock of loose hair behind Katherine's ear as she too looked out the giant window. Life rushed past them, the streets booming with people on their way to the market, on their way back, strolling leisurely with a lover. She laughed inwardly. "I know."

I know it's a shorter chapter, but I'm not feeling any love from any readers. I must say it has me a little distressed. Please review! I hope you enjoyed!

-Kate(Desperado)


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